


Vesnushki

by GoodyearTheShippyCat



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Blushing, Ethos Is Adorable, Fluff, Freckles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 07:12:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14014980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodyearTheShippyCat/pseuds/GoodyearTheShippyCat
Summary: Ethos gains a new appreciation for one of his features thanks to a few words from a certain lunch companion who is usually silent.





	Vesnushki

**Author's Note:**

  * For [on_the_wing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/on_the_wing/gifts).



> This fic is a horrendously belated birthday present for [on_the_wing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/on_the_wing)! 
> 
> If it wasn’t already obvious, I headcanon Ethos with freckles pretty hard, and couldn’t resist writing this after learning the following:  
> The Russian word for freckles is _vesnushki_. It originates from the Russian word for spring ( _vesna_ ) and is formed by adding a diminutive suffix _-ushk_ (which means “cute and small”) to the root. The literal translation essentially means “cute little spots that come out in spring”. ([Source](http://samlis.tumblr.com/post/164127877589/the-russian-word-for-freckles-is-vesnushki-it))
> 
> Multilingual Ethos is definitely inspired by both Eclipse and the wonderful depictions of him as written by [The_Word_Arranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Word_Arranger). Go read all of their Ethos-centric fics if you haven’t already. You won’t be disappointed.

Ethos held back a sigh as he watched Abel and Cain’s backs beat a hasty retreat out the door of Mess Hall B. As was often the case, having flirted with abandon the whole way through it, the two of them left lunch early. Presumably to consummate the amorous promises their eyes had been communicating, glued to each other almost the entire time; Abel only occasionally remembering to keep up the pretense of having a discussion with Ethos once Cain arrived at their table.

Per usual, this left just him and Deimos sitting next to each other. Ethos waited for the smaller fighter to stand and leave the way he always did—no reason to remain when he was finished eating and the man he followed like a shadow had left without him. Because he was nearly silent through lunch, offering at most a tiny flicker of expression or a soft noise of disapproval, Deimos finished eating first every time; putting away whatever gruel was being served up as quietly as he did everything else.

Today was different for some reason that Ethos couldn’t fathom. Deimos stayed where he was after watching Cain and Abel try not to rush out too quickly, still in an obvious hurry to go somewhere they could be alone. The wiry little fighter actually turned his body on the bench, angling it slightly toward Ethos and peeking out at the navigator from behind the curtain of his hair, which normally obscured his face from the side he sat on. Ethos tried to continue the conversation as if this were completely expected, but knew that his surprise was probably showing a little bit.

“Umm, was your training good this morning?” he asked, hoping to involve his silent lunch companion a little more. Unfortunately, he just received the usual half-shrug and slight tilt of the head in response.

“Oh. Uh… how do you like Encke as Lead Fighter? Is he hard on all of you?”

Another shrug, this one even more indifferent-seeming.

“I- I guess I was just curious to know whether he’s anything like Keeler,” Ethos began to ramble in between bites of the remainder of his casserole, “I like Keeler. He demands nothing but the best from all of the navigators, but he’s, um, really nice… and, uh, always full of good advice, especially when you’re having trouble with something. He’s really smart. I bet Encke must be pretty clever, too. They, uh, seem like such a compatible pair.”

It was a little unnerving to be watched by the fighter beside him, even if his eyes were scanning the rest of the room at regular intervals. Finishing his meal, Ethos was happy to have something else to do as he gathered his tray and stood to bring it to the disposal slot. Deimos followed his lead, so close on his heels that it made Ethos a bit uncomfortable.

“Umm, where are you off to, now, Deimos?”

Their awkwardly one-sided conversation continued with another shrug from Deimos, seemingly to imply that he had nothing pressing on his schedule. Ethos began moving again, watching as the smaller man fell into step beside but slightly behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end, though he couldn’t tell whether it was from the threatening presence of the fighter or his own excitement at that novel presence.

“Well, uh, I’ve got open work time in the lab next, and a few projects to keep going with,” he said, filling the silence as they traversed the _Sleipnir’_ s corridors, “But nothing pressing. As long as everything gets finished on time, I can choose when to work on it. I’m actually a bit stuck on an algorithm for my current analyses, though…”

One of them was definitely walking the other to their destination. Ethos just wasn’t quite sure which. Though apparently they were going along his favourite route to the lab, which passed through the observation deck. His pace slowed as his eyes were drawn to the blackness beyond the walls of the station, punctuated by countless points of light. Deimos matched him, step for step, coming to a halt when he did.

“Do you ever come up here just to look out? It’s kind of scary but kind of beautiful, don’t you think? How small we are up here. How we’re dwarfed and outlived by so many natural processes happening in the cosmos...” said Ethos, leaning on the railing and staring out at the inky expanse of space through the massive viewport.

Realizing he wasn’t going to get a response from the fighter, Ethos fell silent, having talked himself out. Which meant he was even more startled a few moments later when Deimos did speak; though just one word, in a raspy almost-whisper.

“ _Vesnushki_.”

Ethos turned his head to look at the smaller man, who was staring at him rather than out at the stars, standing perpendicular to the railing. Confused by the seemingly unrelated statement, he asked:

“Freckles?”

Ethos watched as Deimos’ brows shot up a fraction of an inch and his pale eyes went a little wider at being understood. He was obviously caught off guard by the navigator’s grasp of his native language.

Ethos was both glad and a little concerned over finally revealing his fluency in Colonial Russian. He’d been feeling guilty lately, as Cain would sometimes speak to Deimos in Russian at lunch; assuming their conversation was private, he had definitely mentioned things which Ethos suspected he wouldn’t have said aloud if he knew either of the navigators sitting with them understood him. Because Ethos had been too nervous to speak up the first time, he’d had to keep feigning obliviousness or risk Cain’s temper. But Deimos didn’t seem to be angry at the sudden revelation, for which Ethos was relieved and even a bit excited. Maybe now he’d have someone to practice his spoken Russian with, even if the quiet fighter didn’t say much back.

Deimos brought one hand up to trace gently across Ethos’ cheeks and the bridge of his nose, giving a nod. Flustered by the touch, Ethos momentarily forgot how to construct a sentence in any of the languages he knew. He could feel his face heat, blush probably obscuring the pale golden spots that the fighter had apparently been looking at. Turning back to the viewport, shy, Ethos could still sense Deimos’ gaze on him—more intense than most people’s stares, even with half of it mostly obscured by dark hair.

“Oh, um, you noticed…” he said, eyes darting to Deimos, then back outside again. Ethos couldn’t help thinking back to getting teased in school; his freckles and his untameable hair being two of the things that stood out and got made fun of most. He started again: “I didn’t use to like them when I was a kid, but now I don’t mind them.”

The silence that hung between them became almost unbearable for Ethos, not knowing what Deimos was thinking about making him anxious. After a moment, another raspy comment broke the tension.

“Suit you.”

Ethos turned to look at the small fighter next to him again, to get some confirmation of the unexpected statement. “Oh! You, uh, like them?”

One corner of Deimos’ mouth lifted as he inclined his head in a not-quite nod. Ethos could feel heat in his cheeks again, and he was sure his blush only got fiercer when Deimos leaned in to place a paper dry, soft kiss on one of them—right over where the freckles were most concentrated. The fighter stepped back, then continued in the direction they had been walking, turning his head back in an invitation to follow.

Ethos nearly tripped as he started forward after Deimos, and couldn’t help thinking that maybe he could stand to appreciate his _vesnushki_ a little more.

 

END


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